Heredity
by Shila
Summary: A one night stand results in children Schuldig never knows about... until, of course, he meets the pair of little terrors head on. Will father and twin chibis drive each other mad, or get along eerily well? In progress! Please review. Rated for language
1. Knocking Up The Irish Mafia

A rather strange fanfic about Schuldig's kids. o.o' Completely non-linear, and of course humorous....

Heredity

Prologue (Or, Knocking Up The Irish Mafia)

Once upon a time, there was a group of psychic assassins called Schwarz. This team had four members, three of which are irrelevant to our story. The fourth, however, was a German telepath by the pseudonym of Schuldig. Now, Schuldig was many things, and 'slut' was the least of them. So it was not so strange to find him in a club one early summer night, decked out in skintight leather and having a night on the town.

Of course, there were three activities required to make such a night worthwhile. The first was getting drunk. Not necessarily falling down drunk, but a nice buzz at least. The second was to fuck with someone. Being a telepath, Schuldig was well able to mess with people's heads; being a sadistic asshole, he took gleeful joy in doing so. Occasionally, 'fucking with someone' would even include murder. Schuldig never minded a little more blood on his hands. 'Schuldig' means guilty, after all.

The third of his party-time requirements was to get laid. Man, woman, raver, stoner, goth, junkie, he didn't care. Sex was sex, and it was something simpler, more -real- than the constant babble of thoughts lurking around the edges of his mind. So it was no wonder that that hot summer night, at that club, that he met up with a cute Irish girl just this side of anorexic and fucked her brains out.

Had he been asked the next day, he couldn't have told you her name; in fact he'd never learned it in the first place. He forgot about her, and she forgot about him. The assassin went on to kill a bunch of people, fuck with some florists, and ruin some black corporation's plans for power. Never again in his life did he think of that girl, not even in passing.

Unfortunately for her, forgetting him completely wasn't as simple. About a month after Maureen Sinclair had slept with that hot, foreign redhead at the bar, she came to a horrible, world-shattering conclusion.

She was pregnant.

Of course, this was wholly her fault, for having failed to use any means of contraceptive whatsoever. Despite what getting knocked up might have said about her, she was not, all things considered, a stupid girl, and she realized that ending up pregnant was as much on her as the man. Though she cursed that redheaded foreigner many times in the next eight months, she accepted the responsibility of a child with remarkable grace. At twenty-one, she was about half done with college; a biochemistry degree took a while to achieve, even with her parents' mob money backing her (because after all, the Irish mafia was a force to be reckoned with). At least she'd be able to feed the child. Of course, there was never any question that she would keep the child, because while she may not have been stupid, she was religious, which can often substitute for stupid, and does, occasionally proving worse than mere stupidity ever could. So she would keep the child, and despite the changes this would mean in her life, she took it with remarkable grace. Though her parents were quite upset when she told them, they were grudgingly impressed with her determination, and pledged to support her.

She stayed in school as long as she could, attending classes until she was almost eight months along. When the baby came, it was early, at the end of winter, and she got an absolutely huge surprise to be informed that she was pregnant with twins. That, she wasn't expecting, as she'd refused an ultrasound, not wanting to know her baby's sex. Possibly having had one might have saved her, for no matter what sort of plans Maureen might have had for her life with her children, they didn't matter. She died giving birth; apparently 'this side of anorexic' doesn't imply healthy-baby producing soil. Devastated by their loss, her parents accepted the newborn twins into their care anyway, to raise as they'd raised their own children, all of whom were now grown.

And so it was that Schuldig of Schwarz spawned himself a pair of children, and the children grew up happy, and well cared for, neither half of that coincidental little family ever knowing of the existence of the other and perfectly happy that way.

Thus begins our story.


	2. The Terrible Two

Chapter One: The Terrible Two

(Somewhere in Ireland, approximately nine years post-knockup)

"MAAAAAAAMIIIIIIII!"

Nothing in the world is sweeter than a child's voice. No other tone carries that sweet, light innocence, the syrupy, puppyish plead, the hope and adoration and unconditional trust embodied in those bundles of joy known as chibis.

Unless, of course, said child is not using that sugar-sweet voice and has instead chosen to utilize lung power the likes of which shouldn't exactly be possible. On these occasions, the squalling of a child is something that can and has driven man mad. It is not strange to wish to -strangle- a small, screeching chibi, and it is a testament of the discipline required to raise children that most people, despite being everyday morons, manage to produce more everyday morons without muffling them with pillows somewhere along the line.

On this particular day, the desire to strangle was particularly strong. Then again, when it was the twins, the desire was -always- strong. The two little redheads were complete devils; the girl, Aiden,had a horrible temper and was violent, and the boy, Alaric,always seemed to be sulking or sneering, disdainful of everything. And, as one would be told if one asked anyone who'd ever been responsible for the pair of them for more than five minutes, they seemed to have a magnetic attraction for trouble. They could smell it, and they seemed to enjoy diving right into it, like a freshly bathed dog rolling in the mud. In fact, it was reputed that there was nothing the twins liked more than a good roll in the mud. Unless, of course, the rolling was being done by them to someone else... then, it was even better.

Right now, their nurse Colleen had had more than enough, and was not unwilling to let the children run off to their parents. She had survived a particularly long term with the twins; she'd suffered through nearly six months of their antics by now, but she was now well convinced that she would be better off far, far away from the crazy little redheads, even if it meant she was unemployed. Then again, a discharge from -this- family would likely result in her 'far, far away' involving some nice iron shoes. One did not quit working for the Irish mob, even if the work one did for them was keeping an eye on their kids. If asked, Colleen would have sworn that it would take more than two eyes to keep those twins accounted for, but nobody asked, and she just tolerated it with steady stoicism through the days, resolutely ignoring the twins' pranks and meanness. This only made the children more eager to needle her, which led to today.

Today they were being completely insufferable, and Colleen was half hoping the pair of them would run right into some meeting of their parents' and get shot by some trigger-happy associate of the family. Aaahhh, if only. Colleen trudged resignedly through the house toward the source of the ear-splitting shriek that was only now fading - the girl really did have an incredible lung capacity - hoping that their Mami was too busy to come and find them getting into mischief. Because there was no doubt that they were indeed getting into mischief. Whole loads of it, if Colleen's guess was any good, and it was pretty good, because she knew those twins pretty well.

A sudden loud crash from the kitchen, the room she was headed for, quickened her steps, and she groaned softly under her breath. What were the two of them up to NOW? Dear God, Colleen prayed silently, please don't let them have actually broken anything... I so dearly don't wish to hear Mister Sinclair yelling...

Her wish seemed to be granted as she stepped into an immaculately clean kitchen, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Said sigh was cut off, however, when she realized that something was indeed very, very wrong here.

The twins were nowhere in sight.

To be continued!

a/n: chibi Japanese for little person. Here, used to refer to small children. not its proper usage. . '


End file.
